NY is for Lovers
by ktface3
Summary: An AU in which Jim takes the promotion at corporate. This will follow the canon of the show as closely as possible, so spoilers up through what's aired of season 5 applies.
1. Eyeless in the Mornin Sun

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Okay, bear with me people. This is my first _epic story_ in a reeeeeaally long time, so if I seem out of practice *cracks knuckles* it's 'cause I am.

This story is partially inspired by a story by LittleWords called "City Lights" and partially inspired by the chick flick movie marathon I engaged in this past weekend. (I also kind of just like writing about cities. It is my dream to live in one someday.) It'll probably start out mostly as Jim's POV, but I'm hoping to throw a little of Pam in there as well. Hope it turns out 53% decent! Enjoy!

* * *

_I haven't heard anything, but I bet Jim got the job. I mean, why wouldn't he? He's totally qualified, and smart, everyone loves him... and, if he never comes back again... that's okay. We're friends. And I'm sure we'll stay friends. We just, we never got the timing right. You know? I shot him down, and then he did the same to me, and... But you know what? It's okay. I'm totally fine. Everything is gonna be totally fine. I mean, I've survived almost a year here without… you know, needing to talk to him all the time… I guess it's just finally just, time to move on._

…

As soon as he was out the door of his apartment building, Jim inhaled a big breath of crisp morning air. He loved the way the city looked in the morning, the way the sunrise glistened on the windows of the buildings that surrounded him. It was nearly the end of September, and just turning cool enough to be a bit brisk in the morning, but Jim didn't mind. He waved to the doorman of his building and was on his way to work.

The ten-minute walk to the Dunder Mifflin corporate office was really the best commute he ever could've hoped for. The way the city streets slowly and easily morphed from residential to financial never ceased to amaze him, and he was to the point where he attributed his morning walk to his motivation to work, of all things. This made him laugh; he never thought in a million years that he would have the motivation to work, especially as hard as he did now.

Jim couldn't have even imagined the outcome of his promotion a few months ago. He had always said that he could never have a career with Dunder Mifflin, and remembered the ultimatum he'd made with himself to throw himself in front of a train if _paper_ were to ever become his career. But that was back when he was under the thumb of Michael, and thought the only top position he could ever think to reach was branch manager. Truthfully, the thought of him as a branch manager _still_ made him want to throw himself in front of a train.

But being at corporate, where his ideas weren't simply ignored and he could actually implement some positive changes to the company, was definitely his cup of tea. He was actually downright good at it, always bouncing ideas off of David Wallace and the other Officers, which made him realize that he probably would've been promoted a long time ago if he hadn't wasted so much creative energy on annoying Dwight.

_Live and learn_, Jim thought to himself as he climbed the steps and went in the revolving door to the office building, finding himself mixing with the numerous legions of employees that worked in the building. Jim often thought they all might as well be cattle when they swirled around the lobby like that, running off to their various appointments and whatnot. But as soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the Dunder Mifflin corporate office, the feeling quickly subsided, and Jim was once again instilled with a sense of duty. He had his work to do, just like all the other cattle in the lobby had theirs.

"Morning Jess," Jim greeted the brunette walking toward him. He could tell she was already frazzled; not the best way to start the day.

"Hi. So, your ten o'clock meeting with the corporate customer service team got pushed back to 11, so I moved your lunch with Mr. Willcox to 12:30 and your meeting with the Tech Team to 2."

"Oh, thank you."

"David also wants your proposed schedule for introducing the new technology to the branches by tomorrow, so you're going to have to call the branch managers and set up appointments to visit."

"Okay—"

"And I would start with Michael, because he's called 12 times this morning."

"Ugh. Crap."

"Sorry," Jess empathized, handing him a stack of paperwork. "I tried to deflect him, but…"

Jim nodded, "Yeah. He's persistent. Good thing that meeting's not till 11 then."

With an encouraging smile from Jess, Jim stepped into his office and closed the glass door behind him. He hadn't been back to the Scranton branch since his promotion, but he had been on the phone with Michael enough not to miss him too much. He realized now what must've made Jan go off the deep end: Michael's incessant and downright trivial calls were enough to drive any boss crazy. And then Jan had to deal with him as a boyfriend too! No wonder she collapsed in on herself like a dying star.

Taking a deep breath, Jim picked up the phone and dialed Michael's number.

"Jim!" Michael answered impatiently. "I've been trying to reach you all morning! Let me tell you, your new secretary is just… blech. She is no help at all."

"Administrative Assistant," Jim corrected him. "And I'm here now, so what do you need?"

"Well, I need a little treat for the gang… something to win their affections back."

Jim rubbed his temple; he could already feel a headache coming on. "I'm afraid to ask, but… why?"

"Well…" Michael hemmed and hawed, "I ran down Meredith in my car."

"Oh my God!" Jim gasped. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, she is fine, recovering nicely… she has a tiny crack in her pelvis, but other than that—"

"So she's in the hospital."

"…Yesh."

"How on earth did you manage to run her down? You didn't… do it on purpose, did you?"

"No!" Michael denied vehemently. "No, I was just being negligent."

Jim could see Jess watching curiously from her desk; obviously she had never seen him react to something like this. He gave a shake of his head to her to indicate that whatever Michael needed was especially terrible, and then refocused to think of what to do next.

"Where did this happen?"

Michael stammered, "It was… on company property. But, actually, it was on company property, _with_ company property. So, double jeopardy. We are fine."

"That is _not_ how jeopardy works," Jim corrected him.

"Oh. Sorry. _What is_, we are fine."

"Michael," Jim said sternly, "you need to file an incident report with Toby."

"What? Ugh! No. Not happening."

"Michael," Jim said again, his tone growing increasingly parental, "if you don't file an incident report then the company is liable for her injuries. Meredith could sue us."

"Are you kidding?" Michael laughed. "She was probably drunk, she won't remember how she cracked her pelvis."

Jim exhaled loudly, something he had heard Jan do many times over the phone before. Now he knew why she did it so frequently. "Listen, if you don't file a incident report, you will be written up for misconduct." The thought popped into Jim's head, _since when did I become Dwight? _But he ignored it. This was serious, and he needed to treat it as such. "I'm also going to call Toby to make sure the job gets done."

"No, no, no. Not necessary," Michael assured him. "I will take care of it."

"Good," Jim replied, "so it shouldn't be any trouble for you to fax me a copy of the report once it's done."

Now it was Michael's turn to sigh. "Ohhh, all right boss. You are a toughie, you know that? Too bad I can't just… sleep with you, get you on my side—"

As Jim tried desperately to block the mental images flooding his brain, he quickly switched the subject to more neutral territory, "So, Michael, I need to visit the branch sometime soon…"

"OH! Really? That'll be great! We'll throw you a welcome back party! When are you coming?—"

"Don't say—"

"That' what she said!" Michael blurted out, followed by childish laughter. "Oh, that is a classic. But seriously, when will you be gracing us with your presence, my liege?"

"Uh, well I need to make a presentation about some of the new technology we're implementing, and we just have a few more pieces to set up before I can give a tutorial to all of you, so I'm thinking… two weeks from now?"

After a long pause sprinkled with erms and uhs, Michael finally responded, "So the… second of October?"

"Does that work for you? I would probably need a full day."

"That is perfect. We at the humble, Dunder Mifflin Scranton are looking forward to it, good sir."

"All right," Jim chuckled. Michael did have a way of trying to suck up as much as he could. "Well I'll see you on the second, and I'm sure I will talk to you again soon."

"Very good."

"And don't forget about that incident report."

"Aw, come on man—!"

But before Michael could protest, Jim hung up the phone, putting down the receiver as quickly as if he were holding a giant cockroach. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, pausing for a moment to look out at the New York skyline lit up by sunlight.

The golden rays that danced across the city always seemed to remind him of her.

He wasn't sure why the image had stuck with him, but one evening as they were walking to their cars, the sun was setting at just the perfect angle to catch the highlights in her curls. She practically glistened in the sunset, her eyes and her smile glowing with radiant light, and as she said goodnight to him and went on her merry way, she hadn't even noticed that she had stopped him in his tracks, practically breathless from the sight of her.

Now whenever he saw a sunset or sunrise that was especially breathtaking, his thoughts always drifted to her that one evening in the parking lot, and he wondered if the sun danced on her curls like that every morning and early evening.

He wished with everything he had that he could be with her to witness it.

Jim rubbed his eyes as he sat there, trying to push thoughts of Pam from his head. He had been such a coward, running away to New York for a promotion instead of swallowing his pride and just… doing _something_. She had even told him at the beach, "I wish you would come back," but that didn't even seem to sway him into making a move. But, then again, running was what he knew. He ran from her after she rejected him, and he ran from her again when it looked like they couldn't put the pieces of their friendship back together.

At least he was an equal-opportunity runner. He ran from Karen too, after all.

"Jim?" Jess called as she knocked politely on the door a couple times. "Karen Filippelli on line one for you."

_Crap._

"Thanks Jess," Jim said, smiling meekly. He took a deep breath, gearing himself up for Karen's level of professionalism, and picked up the phone. If there was one good thing he could say about working with Karen after he dumped her, it was that she was nothing but professional. "Hello?"

"Jim," Karen's voice came through the receiver. There was always something about Karen's voice that reminded him of that song by Cake, 'a voice that is dark like tinted glass.' Somehow that just suited her. "Are you the man I talk to about overtime policy?"

"Uhh…"

"Because last week, two of our salesmen logged ten hours over overtime each without my approval, and they're just now turning in a form to me about it."

"Well that is… not good," Jim stammered. As good as he was with some of his new duties, he was still trying to figure out a lot of stuff as he went. He quickly grabbed a binder from a bookshelf behind his desk and flipped through it frantically, trying to find the overtime policies. "Let me see here… Okay. No, the 'Request for Overtime' form has to be turned in and approved by you, the branch manager, before said overtime can be implemented… The only exception is if you had a verbal agreement with the employee, agreeing that the form would be submitted at a later date. Did you have a verbal agreement with these salesmen?"

"No. No I did not."

"Okay, so… there's your answer."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Glad I'm not the only one in upper management who doesn't have all the rules down yet," Jim chuckled, trying to be cordial.

The silence for a long moment on the other end of the line unnerved him, but what was more unsettling was what Karen said next: "Jim, I know you _think_ you were trying to do some good by talking David into offering me the _silver medal prize_ of branch manager in Utica, but we both know it was so breaking up with me could be a little easier on you."

"Then… why'd you take it?" It was official, Jim was an idiot.

"Because I have worked _really hard_ for my career!" Karen practically shrieked, then quickly regained composure. "And, this economy sucks, so why wouldn't I take a raise and stay with the same company than quit and try to find something else when practically no one is hiring?"

"Good point," was all Jim could muster. "Well, for what it's worth, um… I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Karen answered coolly. "And just so you're aware, I would _never_ turn down a great job offer, regardless of if my ex-boyfriend was going to be my boss."

Jim nodded his head, "All right then. Good to know… Oh, while I have you on the line, um, I need to set up a day to come to Utica to debut the technology advancements we're implementing."

"Ooh, fancy words for mister Vice President, North East Region."

"And Director of New Media. Can't forget that part," Jim smirked.

"Oh of course," Karen laughed in response. Finally, the icy exterior was starting to melt. Jim did a little dance in his chair to celebrate the occasion. "How about October fourth?"

After a quick look at his calendar, Jim replied, "Sounds great. Thanks Karen."

"Sure. Talk to you later."

"Bye." This time when he hung up the phone, he did it with a sense of triumph. Karen had been somewhat difficult to work with in the past few months, and rightly so. It was true that Jim had talked to David about offering her a position as a branch manager, but he told himself it was to advance her career, not to make it easier for him to break up with her. That part of it was more like… a bonus. And so now, when it was finally starting to pay off and she wasn't so mad at him, he couldn't help but feel a little prideful.

Much to Jim's delight, everything had worked out surprisingly well for him, aside from the few irritating calls from Michael every day. The commute was nice, he had a pretty good handle on all his responsibilities, and everyone seemed to really appreciate his innovation and enthusiasm.

The only thing he had to worry about now was seeing _her_ again, two weeks from today.

The mere thought of it made him tremble to his very core.

* * *

Up next, Jim introduces some new technology to the Scranton branch. And no, it's not Dunder Mifflin Infinity.

Reviews -- encouragement -- motivation -- another chapter. I'm sure I didn't _need_ to spell it out for you, but I thought I nice reminder couldn't hurt. :)


	2. Taken With Thought, Still Prone To Care

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one! I thought I would've had tome to write more this past week, but you know how life always gets in the way. Hope this chapter is as well-received as the first one!

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_It was a hot July day, one of the hottest of the summer, and Jim was desperately wishing for air conditioning in his studio apartment. He cranked up the box fan sitting in his window and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking around the room filled with empty boxes and unpacked knickknacks, and thought he had definitely made some progress today. He knew he could get through the last few boxes before dinner, and so he pulled over another box and started unpacking._

I wonder if I have to save all these papers from Scranton,_ he thought to himself as he flipped through old quarterly numbers and copies of expense reports, not even noticing a small sheet of paper with a yogurt lid attached to it fall from the stack. The sunlight beaming through the window danced on the golden medal, managing to catch the corner of Jim's eye. He dropped the papers in his hands and picked up the note, thumbing over the yogurt lid and reading Pam's message:_

_Jim, Don't forget us when you're famous! Pam_

_He was almost breathless from the sight of it, like a ghost from the past visiting him, and he wondered where it had come from. 'Famous' implied that he would be somewhere that he could become famous. Well, maybe not _famous_, but that would be what Pam would call it. Probably exaggerating just to make fun of him._

_Perhaps she wrote it when he left to take the promotion?_

"_Don't forget us…" Jim read aloud to himself in the now sweltering and unfamiliar apartment. It seemed as though all the work he had put into making it his own had been washed away, and the only thing left that was slightly comforting was a stupid piece of gold foil. "Don't forget _us_…"_

_Immediately remorse set in. Why didn't he find this sooner? This was the sign he had been looking for! Sure, Pam had said all those things at the beach, but after that she went back to treating him as a friend, which he took as a sign that she would never want them to be… what he wanted them to be. And so he ran from what he felt was a hopeless situation. Again._

_But now he knew, it wasn't hopeless. This was her signal that she wanted to—_

"_Woah," he said out loud to himself, the argument in his mind now seeping out into the real world. Jim shook his head and stared at the note. Pam wrote it two months ago; who knows how she would feel about him now. And yes, he should've found it sooner, but he didn't. He took the promotion and moved away, and nothing could be done about that. But maybe if he got to talk to her, he could ask her about it…_

…

Jim's stomach was in knots as he stepped off the elevator. There was no turning back now, and so he began what seemed like the Bataan Death March toward the Dunder Mifflin offices. Feeling like it was strangling his neck, he loosened his tie and took a deep breath before pulling open the door and stepping inside.

And that's when he laid eyes on her again for the first time in five months.

She looked… different.

Jim couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. Well, he could: her hair was different, she was wearing a new sweater, she had makeup on. But there was something else about her too. She didn't look as… _trapped_ behind that receptionist's desk anymore, and so he gazed at her for a moment, wondering what made her look that way.

That's when she looked up and saw him, and he froze in his tracks.

He could hear her gasp softly, as if she wasn't expecting him to be standing right there, and then a big smile crossed her face. Her eyes lit up brighter than he had ever seen, and her expression was so infectious that he swore his cheeks would hurt the next day from smiling back at her so much.

"Jim—"

"Hi—"

"Hey, it's so good to see—"

"Jim!" Michael shouted from his office. Jim's smile quickly faded as Michael ran out to give him a hug. "There he is! There he is! He's back! And look at the suit and the hair! Haha! Who's the model that just walked in the door?"

"Michael—" Jim started to reprimand, but he could barely be heard once Andy joined in.

"Watch out! It's Biiiiig Haircut! Back in town. Lock up your daughters!"

Jim took a deep sigh and instinctively looked over at Pam for support, to which she gave him a smile and a small shrug. But when she turned back to the spreadsheet she was working on, Jim felt suddenly abandoned to face the barrage of idiotic remarks from his subordinates. He was shocked for a moment that Pam would desert him, but then he realized that he didn't have to take what he was being subjected to. He finally had some power, and he was going to exercise it.

"All right guys," Jim put his hands up and gave them a critical look, "that's enough." And much to Jim's surprise, Michael and Andy responded by shutting up. It was nothing short of a miracle. Jim smiled to himself, proud that his otherwise reckless employees would listen to him, and decided to take the managerial role up a notch.

It was time for an announcement.

"Hey, can I have everyone's attention?" Jim raised his voice to the workers in the bullpen. "Um, it's nice to see all of you again. I just want to let everyone know up front that, even though I was a salesman here, I am, essentially…" he stumbled for the right words, finally giving up and going with the conventional term, "your _boss_ now. And, I know that Michael has been trying to get used to this as best he can, and I'm hoping that you will all try to accept this as well. So, um, I have a presentation to give to all of you on some new technology we're implementing in the company, so, conference room in 10 minutes?"

The room was so silent that Jim could probably have heard a pin drop. It was unnerving.

"Okay," he answered to himself as he looked around the room of blank faces. "I will see you all then." With that, Jim silently trudged into the conference room and shut the door. And as he began to set up the media for his presentation, he couldn't help but wonder how things had started out so well, with Michael and Andy actually listening to an instruction, but quickly transformed into something so awkward, like a teacher trying to get students to solve a problem on the chalkboard.

_Management is tricky_, he thought to himself as he pulled up his PowerPoint.

…

"… So, since the main way we can gain the edge on the competition is through our customer service, I, and the others at corporate, have come up with an idea to make our service faster and more reliable. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Dunder Mifflin LiveChat."

Jim pressed a key to reveal the next slide, and suddenly an image of the future Dunder Mifflin LiveChat interface window popped up, expelling oohs and ahs from the crowd. His presentation was going surprisingly well, but then again, he had always had a knack for captivating a crowd. It was one of the many skills he had actually found useful at corporate; it's amazing how many more people listen to you when you can inject a presentation with some charisma.

"Through this instant messaging system, clients will be able to reach their salesmen without delay. So, say Dwight has a customer. Dwight, name one of your biggest clients."

Dwight smirked devilishly, "Well Jim, ever since you gave it up, Blue Cross of Pennsylvania has become my biggest and most lucrative client. They are buying more paper from me than they ever did from you."

"Alright," Jim tried to go on without laughing at Dwight's terrible attempt at bragging. "Well, the corporate customer service team has gone through and given a unique username to each and every one of our clients. Dwight, I remember that client of yours having the username BlueCrossPenn. So let's say their rep needs to talk to you right away. What they can do is go on to our website, log in with their unique username and a password that they set up, and they can find you on LiveChat and instantly message you with their question, or whatever they need to talk to you about. Make sense?"

Phyllis raised her hand, "Will we have to go onto the website to be available to talk?"

"Excellent question Phyllis," Jim smiled, making Phyllis blush embarrassedly. "Actually, IT will be installing software onto all of your computers that will make LiveChat available without needing to use the web browser. It'll be similar to AOL or MSN or Yahoo Messengers, except it will be for company use only. You'll only be able to add client usernames or Dunder Mifflin employee usernames."

"We get usernames too?" Oscar asked.

"Yes, and that brings me to LiveChat's next function. Now, say Dwight wants to talk to…" Jim smirked, "Angela. About… accounting business."

"I would never talk to Dwight about accounting matters of any kind," Angela sneered, sending an icy cold stare in Dwight's direction.

Jim was utterly confused, "Uh, well… for the sake of the example, let's just say he does. Dwight, in addition to all of your clients' usernames, you will also be able to LiveChat with anyone from the company. Now, there is a directory of names that you can access using your own unique username and password, and at any point in time you may add or delete names from your contacts list. But there are exceptions: first, it is mandatory that you have everyone in your branch on your contact list. Second, everyone must have a corporate contact; that means accounting will have the corporate accounting head, customer service will have the corporate customer service head… get it?"

"But, what if I need to talk to Bill in Albany about… something businessy?" Kevin asked hesitantly.

"You mean, something other than the fantasy football league you put together every year?" Jim inquired with a smirk. "Well, then you have the option of finding Bill on the directory and adding him to your contacts manually. So just so we're clear, you are mandated to keep certain people on your contact list, like everyone in the branch, but you may also add other people from the company as well. That is the beauty of the system. Now, Kelly—"

Jim looked to the back of the room to find Kelly snuggled up tight next to Ryan, her eyes closed and a dreamful smile on her face.

"Kelly?"

Ryan nudged her and immediately she bolted upright, "What! Yes?"

"Kelly, because you are this branch's customer service rep, you get a very special responsibility with our new system. You ready for it?" Jim asked in a tone that vaguely resembled a master asking if his dog wanted a chew toy.

"Oh, totally," Kelly nodded enthusiastically. "Bring it on."

"You will be the administrator of this branch's LiveChat chat room."

"Um… okay. What's that?"

Jim faltered for a moment, wondering just how he could explain this in terms that Kelly could understand. But he quickly picked the pace back up, "Okay, well, say one of Dwight's clients, say Blue Cross of Pennsylvania, doesn't want to talk to Dwight. They think he's too… aggressive."

"That's easily believable," Angela muttered under her breath.

"So what they do instead," Jim continued after a momentary confused glance at Angela, "is they go onto LiveChat, and instead of choosing to talk to Dwight, they choose the Scranton Branch Customer Service Chat, where they find you, ready to answer questions at a moment's notice. Pretty cool?"

"I guess…" Kelly conceded. "But can I like, chat with my friends on this thing too?"

"No," Jim sighed. How many times was he going to have to repeat himself? "Only clients and Dunder Mifflin employees."

Without warning, Michael jumped up and began to applaud, "Jim Halpert everybody!" And even though he technically had a few more slides to go, everyone began to get up and leave. It wasn't exactly how Jim had pictured it going, but it seemed well received, and he couldn't argue with that.

…

"Hey, David…" Jim answered the call on his cell phone. He was just about to eat lunch in the break room, and since the butterflies in his stomach had curbed his hunger the past few days, he was suddenly _extremely_ hungry now that the presentation was over. He stared at his sandwich longingly as he spoke with David:

"Yeah, the presentation seemed to go pretty well… Well, you know, I think the people in this branch are gonna need to see the thing up and running before they'll really take to it… Exactly… Michael wasn't too bad, although he did cut me short by a few slides. Yeah, he told me before I made the presentation that it was 'his house'… Oh, yeah, I can step up and correct him… no problem…"

And just as he was settling in for a long rehash of the morning's events, _she_ came in and sat down at the table behind his, brown paper bag in hand.

"Well thanks… Yeah, while our old website was good, I think this is a definite step up… All right. Yeah, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that…" Jim fumbled for some papers in his bag, praying silently that Pam wasn't watching him, although he knew she was. "Okay, so I had to push everything back a day on the itinerary, because I kind of… forgot about Akron… Yes, they _are_ easy to forget about. Thank you for understanding. And it's a five and a half hour drive from Scranton, which other than Buffalo… Yeah… Well as long as you're okay with that… Great. Thank you so much David. See you next Thursday."

Jim gave a deep sigh as soon as he closed his phone and practically collapsed onto his sandwich. It was always nerve-wracking talking to David, but especially when he was trying to keep his spirits up about the reception of his idea by the branches. That's when Jim heard the faintest of giggling behind him.

"Hey," he turned and chuckled at her, smirking wildly as she picked at a bag of chips. "I'm guessing you saw me almost do a face plant into my ham and cheese."

Pam tilted her head and inquired innocently, "Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"

He could only shake his head in response, knowing he should've seen that one coming. And that's when he realized that even though he was still bent out of shape about whatever romance had sparked between them—if he could even call it that—he found that he did miss Pam, his best friend, even more. He smiled at her and pulled out the chair next to him, "There's room over here, if you want to…"

"Oh. Um…"

"I mean, you don't have to—"

"No, it's—"

"I won't fire you or anything."

"Heh. Okay…"

"Don't think I can for something like that."

"Good to know."

She picked up the remainder of her lunch and sat herself down next to him. He could tell she was very conscious of their proximity, actually scooting away from him in the process of scooting forward, and it hurt his heart that she would consciously do such a thing. But he couldn't blame her. They hadn't talked in five months, and so of course she would be a little wary.

"Um… it's good to see you again," he stated, breaking the silence in the room. "And, talk to you too. It's good that we're… talking."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'm surprised that we haven't talked in so long."

"Well, my assistant makes most of my formal calls. And I have everyone's extensions in the company directory, so there's really no need to call the main line…" Jim looked up from his lunch and saw that the expression on her face signaled that she didn't want his bumbling excuses. He laughed embarrassedly, "And you meant, just to call to say hi. No, yeah, I have been pretty bad about that."

"Yeah…" Pam nodded. "And I would've called you, except I didn't have your new number and I thought it would be weird to call your assistant—"

Jim shrugged, "Oh, yeah, cause I didn't even give you… Let's just pin this one on me, 'kay"

"Okay," Pam smiled softly. Jim could tell she was still holding back about something, but he didn't want to push it. The last thing he needed was to get into an argument with an employee, especially if it was about a "relationship."

"So, I have a question," he quickly changed topics, "what was going on with Angela and Dwight?"

Pam's eyes lit up, "Oh! You don't—do you know?"

"I thought… they were dating."

"They _were_ dating."

"Ohh…"

As they sat there, eating their lunches and gossiping about their coworkers, Jim began to finally relax for the first time in weeks. As much as he enjoyed the work of the corporate world, nothing pleased him more than being in his comfort zone and talking with his best friend, and now that the ice had been broken, there was nothing that was going to keep him apart from her.

But he wasn't going to fall for her again. At least, not until he was sure she felt the same way.

* * *

Up next, Jim throws a Launch Party.

How was this chapter? I was shooting for 56% decent this time. ;)


	3. The Bearers of All Good Things Arrive

A/N: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews!! I'm glad people are intrigued by this story; it definitely motivates me to keep writing this thang! Now, enjoy this chapter, will you?

* * *

"Jim, long time no see," David greeted Jim as he sat down in David's office.

"Well, presentations can't give themselves you know," Jim joked, and David laughed cordially.

"So how did those go?" David asked, leaning in attentively. "Were the branches pretty receptive?"

"For the most part. I had a little trouble in Yonkers…"

"Yeah, I've heard some things about their sales team," David nodded. "They can get a little rowdy."

"I was definitely heckled a bit," Jim chuckled.

He wasn't sure if it was just because Michael had skewed his view on managers so much, but Jim found David to be the best boss he'd ever had. He always seemed so understanding, and always gave Jim a chance to explain himself, and yet at the same time, he knew just how to instruct and correct his mistakes in a firm manner. It reminded Jim of some of his high school sports coaches, who saw his potential and then pushed him toward it using just the right motivational tactics. Jim really enjoyed having that feeling again of being molded into the best he could be, and found that he respected David just as he had his basketball and track coaches from years ago.

"And, I know this might be a little complicated to explain, but…" David paused for a moment to throw up his hands and give a little sigh, "What happened in Scranton?"

Jim scratched his head, trying to think of the most reasonable way to explain, "Well, I gave my presentation, and then Michael got it in his head somehow that what I was doing was a form of 'ageism.' And so, he basically tried to make me look like a bad guy by saying my new ideas were terrible, and they weren't going to help the company…"

"And, how did that lead to a company car in a lake?"

"Well," Jim sighed, "he had a GPS in the car, and if I interpreted Michael correctly, he was trying to prove that technology doesn't always know everything."

"So the GPS system was—"

"Telling him to drive into the lake. Yeah."

David sat back in his chair and nodded, "Oh boy. Well, Michael has always been somewhat of a thorn in the company's side. But unless his branch is doing poorly, our hands are tied. And you well know…"

"Their numbers are great," Jim finished David's thought. "And I'm really trying to reign him in, but he's very… resistant to being managed. But, I do think that being invited to our LiveChat Launch Party will break down his defenses a little."

"Sure," David agreed. "He wants some special treatment, and he _is_ a branch manager, so he's entitled to a reward now and then. Makes sense. Oh, speaking of which, tomorrow's the big day. Have you checked in with the Tech Team?"

"Yep, IT has installed LiveChat on all the computers, um, Nashua is our test branch, so they hopefully have been chatting for a couple hours already, and I am meeting with the Tech Team after lunch for any troubleshooting that may need to be worked out."

"Great. Sounds like you're really on top of this."

Jim smiled, "Well, this project has been most of my work for the past five months or so, so I feel really… invested in it."

"Well good, I'm glad you are really taking ownership. It's what the Board really likes to see," David praised. "I think that's all I have for you. I'm sure you'll be busy with all your troubleshooting today and tomorrow, so I'll talk to you again… at the party."

"Sounds good," Jim beamed, getting up from his chair. "Thanks David."

"Anytime."

Jim couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride as he walked back to his office. This idea was practically his child: he conceptualized it, he outlined the features of the system, he presented the idea to everyone in the company, and now he was finally going to see it go up. He chuckled to himself as he sat down at his desk and skimmed his email, realizing how foreign it felt to have pride in his work, but he decided he'd better get used to it. He was sure he would have a lot of accomplishments to be proud of in the coming years.

But his time on cloud nine came to an abrupt end when Jess knocked frantically on his door. "The interface crashed, they need you in the Tech Department," she told him, and with that, it was back to reality.

…

The Dunder Mifflin LiveChat Launch Party was well underway by the time Jim arrived. He could hear the music blasting as he walked up the steps and into the lobby of the Metropolitan Pavillion, and all of a sudden became very nervous. Despite what some may have guessed going by his age and charm, Jim didn't go out to clubs all that often. Bars, sure, but nightclubs really weren't his scene. He had no idea how to work a room or even how he should dance. The last function he had been to like this was his senior prom, and back then it was totally fine to dance goofy, but now he would have all the higher ups watching his every move.

_Maybe I should just stay away from the dance floor,_ he thought to himself as he checked his coat.

The day before had been insanely stressful for him. The system crashed twice, everyone in Nashua had their contact lists scrambled, and Jim ended up working until almost midnight with the Tech Team to get everything set for Launch Day. But they had somehow pulled it off, and in the morning everything had gone off without a hitch. By noon Jim had successfully made contact with all his branch managers via LiveChat, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the system. Michael of course had his gripes ("You mean I can't chat with Jan on this thing??"), but that was to be expected.

"Jim," David called from across the room. He was standing with a couple of the company Officers, their spouses by all their sides, and it made Jim self-conscious that he had come to the party alone. But he wasn't going to let that deter him from his night, not when things had gone so well with the launch.

"Hi David, Simon, Natalie," Jim greeted his superiors graciously.

"Jim I believe you remember my wife, Rachel," David gestured to the brunette next to him, "and this is Simon's wife, Cecilia, and Natalie's husband, Don."

"Nice to meet you," Jim held out his hand to each of them. Cecilia just gave a polite smile in response, but Don was no stranger about shaking Jim's hand.

"So you're the boy who this whole party is for," Don inquired as more of a statement than a question.

Jim gave a small shrug, "Well, it's really to celebrate the new program—"

"JIM!! JIIIIIMM!!!!"

The entire group turned to see who would so impolitely interrupt in the middle of a conversation, and Jim was not surprised to see the person that he did running up to them.

"There ya are, buddy! Man, this is _faaaancy_. Hey David!"

"Hi Michael," David cordially replied. "Glad you could make it."

"Oh, I would not miss this for the world!" Michael told them as he gave Jim a nudge. "System works great, by the way. Love that I can talk to you whenever I want now."

Whatever Jim was about to say quickly disintegrated in his mouth. In all his planning, he had not foreseen the obvious detail that Michael would now have access to him at any time of the day via LiveChat, without any buffer or assistant between them. He could almost feel the barrage of YouTube links and inappropriate jokes being hurled at him, and as he stood there slack-jawed for a moment, slowly coming to grips with the consequences of the new system, Michael said something that took his mind off of the issue completely.

"Did I lose Pam somewhere? Hmm… Hey, it's an open bar, right? She's probably over there, you know, glug glug glug."

"W—what?"

"You haven't noticed? Pam has a thing for drinking at company events. Remember that time she got kicked out of Chili's during the Dundies? Ohh man, I was ready to take her to rehab that night."

"Pam's here?"

"Ooh, is there a DJ controlling this music? Now I wanna hear that song… 'They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no,'" Michael sang, completely oblivious to the expression on Jim's face. "I'm gonna go find the DJ and see if he has that song. Later gators!"

"Bye Michael," David gave a friendly wave, then turned back to his group. "That's the one from the Scranton branch. You know, the one who's dating the woman who's suing us for wrongful termination…"

But Jim was barely listening to the conversation; he was still trying to wrap his head around what Michael had said.

Pam was _here_.

He had to go find her.

He quietly and smoothly removed himself from the group and set out on a search through the throngs of partygoers. Unfortunately, at a party that was essentially for his accomplishments, he found it difficult to move through a crowd without having to make small talk with everyone he saw:

"Yes, it _is_ unlike any system the paper industry has ever seen…"

"We're _very_ happy with the way the launch went today…"

"There _are_ still some bugs to work out, so I think I'll keep refining it…"

"I'm so _glad_ you're having a good time."

Jim had barely made it halfway across the room and felt like he had seen everyone in the place at least twice. Where was she? He was just turning around to head back the other way when he bumped into someone behind him, spilling her drink.

"Oh! I'm so sorry—"

"Oh it's—Jim! I should've guessed," Karen gave him an incredulous look. "You invite me to your party and then spill my drink all over me."

"No, I—Let me get you some napkins, or club soda or something for the stain…"

"No, it's fine, you just got the skirt of the dress," she told him, dabbing the spill with the napkin in her hand. "And it's dark, no one will notice. Just be lucky that I know the best dry cleaner in Utica."

"Well… we'll reimburse you for the dry cleaning—"

Karen shook her head feverishly, "No, _please_, stop trying to make things better. I can fix this myself." They exchanged a glance, both realizing the double meaning of her words, and then Karen gave a sigh. "So, listen, I never got a chance to congratulate you on the launch of the new system, so… congratulations."

"Thanks Karen," Jim shook her hand hesitantly. Apparently their relationship was back to icy cold and professional.

"Really, I am impressed that you managed to develop this whole program from the ground up," she added. "Especially when you were always such a slacker when you were a salesman…"

"Yeah… guess I just like what I'm doing…" Jim tried to weave his way cautiously around the conversation.

Karen was about to say something, but she stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and Jim could see her face immediately brighten. She entwined her arm around the tall man who had come up behind her and introduced him, her face beaming, "Jim, this is Dan, my date. Dan, this is my _boss_, Jim."

She stepped aside so the two men could shake hands, but silently gave Jim a stern look not to say anything about their prior relations. Jim immediately got the message and kept the conversation light, albeit awkward, "Nice to meet you Dan. How did you meet our… fine employee here?"

_Smooth_, Karen's eyes seemed to say. Even silently, Karen still had a knack for being sarcastic.

"Well, we met at a bar in Utica a couple months ago," Dan explained, "and she told me where she worked, so I called there the next day to see if I could talk to her, and ended up getting a different Karen—"

"Karen Kotselik, one of my sales team—" Karen interjected.

"And I ended up buying a whole bunch of paper from her for my office—"

"He's a dermatologist," Karen proudly declared. "But he finally got the right girl on the line once he realized Karen was just trying to sell him paper—"

"And we've been dating for… a month?"

"Sounds about right."

Jim nodded and couldn't help but smile at the happy couple, "Well great. That is… a very cute story."

"Isn't it?" Karen asked rhetorically. "And to think, I was almost offered your position here in New York!"

"Then _I_ would've been the one meeting Dan in a bar," Jim chuckled, to which he received confused looks from the pair. He then remembered that he and Karen never really did share the same sense of humor.

Karen tugged on Dan's arm, "Come on honey, let's go dance. See ya later Jim. Congrats again!"

"Nice to meet you," Dan added as he was pulled toward the dance floor.

Jim gave a small wave as he watched the two of them walking away and then let out a chuckle. _She certainly has a type_, he thought to himself as he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward an empty table.

And that's when he spotted her sitting at another table nearby, sipping a drink and watching the dance floor intently.

_Pam._

It took all the will he had not to just run over to her, but to instead approach coolly and not like he had been desperately searching for her all night. Of course, he had been desperately searching all night, but there was no reason _she_ needed to know that. And as soon as he came into her line of vision, she was so excited to see him that she jumped up and threw her arms around him.

"Hiii!! It'ssso good to see you!" she slurred. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Michael was right about her habit of drinking at company events, but as soon as he was close enough, the smell of her hair completely distracted him. For a brief moment he was lost in a sea of floral scent, but when she quickly pulled away, he became alarmed. "I'm sorry," she said, brushing the hair out of her face, "that probly wasn't appropriate."

"No, it was fine," Jim assured her with a smile. "It's a party. Speaking of which…" he gestured to her drink, "already been putting a few back?"

"Ugh, two an'a half hours in a car with Michael and yootoo would be drinking this way," she justified her tipsy behavior to him, to which he could only shrug in response.

"You got me there," he conceded, gesturing for them to sit down. "So… how did you end up coming with Michael anyway?"

Pam sat down carefully, obviously finding it hard to balance, and answered his question with a detectable tone of apprehension, "Well… youno Jan is suing the company, so oviously she didn' wantto go. And then Michael offered me annextra week of paid vacation in exchange for bein' his… _date_, so… But really, how could I turn this down!"

"It's win-win—"

"Win!"

"Exactly," Jim laughed, not wanting to tell her that Michael couldn't bribe her like that without authorization from him first. He figured he'd handle the necessary paperwork whenever it came in. She deserved it, after all. "Well I'm glad you came," he told her. "I felt like a fish out of water here."

"Jus call me your fishbowl," Pam replied jokingly, blissfully unaware of all the levels that analogy spoke to. Jim cringed momentarily before managing to submerge his feelings underneath his expression, and then laughed along with her. "So… I tried to add you to my contacts thingy today," she quickly changed the subject.

"Oh, I bet you weren't able to."

"I wasn't!" she confirmed. "Why is that?"

Jim danced around the explanation with erms and uhs until he finally told her, "Corporate people are basically unlisted in the directory. It's a security measure, so we don't get contacted by random people in the branches to complain about their boss or something. For that kind of thing you're supposed to get in touch with your corporate contact."

"So… I'm some random employee inna branch?" Pam asked, looking a little hurt by the explanation.

"No! Of course not," he denied. "Just, by company standards… Um, you know what though? I can add you, and then contact you and then you'll be able to add me that way."

He could see a hint of a smile form on her face when he said that, and it elated him that she could be so swayed by what he thought of her. It meant she still cared. "Okay," she responded, now suddenly acting coy, which in turn made him feel a little bashful as well.

As he stared at her, looking so beautiful and blushing more than he had ever seen, he had to ask himself, _what are we, eighth graders?_

He was so overcome by this realization that they were just acting stupid that he began to open his mouth to say something. Anything. 'Let's ditch this party.' 'We can go for a drink somewhere more quiet if you want.' 'You don't have to go home with Michael, stay with me tonight.' But for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to say any of those things. He had never had that relationship with her, and was scared shitless at the thought of offending her and ruining whatever it was they were doing now, that he was silenced by it. No, he just couldn't hit on her, and with that fully recognized in his mind, he gave a large sigh and tried to focus on other things.

Like Michael making a fool of himself on the dance floor.

"So why aren't you out there with your date?" he asked, a large smirk on his face. "I know you're a pretty dorky dancer, but you can't possibly be as bad as him."

"Oh you'd be surprised," she smiled back. And as she drunkenly jabbered on and on, Jim began to wonder where the heck this renewed relationship was going to go. They obviously still had some spark left between them, but he was still too scared to take that leap out of the friend zone. And worse yet, he knew she'd never make a move either. And so Jim concluded that they were stuck for the moment, playing the waiting game and seeing how much their relationship could grow now that there was nothing standing in their way… besides their own lack of action, that is.

But no sooner had he come to this conclusion than Fancy New—and drunk—Beesly surprised him again.

"So get this, Dwight's turning his beet farm into a bed and breakfast! We have to go check it out sometime."

"Uh, sure." …_What?!_

_

* * *

_Next up, Jim trades the city for the country, and spends the night on a beet farm._  
_


	4. Shifting Skin, the Coming Night

A/N: Sorry for the long time in between updates!! I hope this especially lengthy chapter makes up for it. Special thanks to mah Co-Queen Pimp, Bears Eat Beets, for helping me work through this chapter and get what I really wanted to say nailed down. Enjoy!!

* * *

It takes Jim almost two weeks to make it around to all the branches. He's got it down to a science now: he goes to Camden Monday, Scranton Tuesday, Akron Wednesday, Buffalo Thursday, Utica Friday, then spends the weekend in Albany (Utica's too dangerous; there's the chance he could bump into Karen and her dermatologist boyfriend and run the risk of further awkwardness) and sees Albany the following Monday, hits Nashua Tuesday, Yonkers Wednesday, and is back in the corporate office on Thursday.

It's enough driving to make anyone's head spin, which is, again, why he thinks Jan may have gone insane doing this job. But she was always so concerned about deadlines and schedules, and when you have to drive for hours and hours every day, it's better to just sit back and enjoy the ride. So what if there's a big traffic jam? There's nothing Jim can do about it, and so he just doesn't worry about it. As long as that road gets him to where he's going eventually, that's all he cares about. And he can still work via Blackberry when traffic is at a standstill.

The road from Camden to Scranton was what he was on now, taking him to all-too-familiar territory. Except this time, instead of staying at his mom and dad's for the night, he was going to be staying at Schrute Farms.

With Pam.

… And Dwight.

That was the eternal struggle he found himself in as he sat on I-476 North in bumper-to-bumper traffic: was the sheer horror of staying at Schrute Farms cancelled out by the fact that Pam would be there? Jim had been thinking about it for the last week and a half and still hadn't come up with an answer.

To anyone who had seen the two of them laughing and playfully knocking knees during the Launch Party, it would've seemed as though there was going to be a launch of a whole different kind that night. And truthfully, _stupidly_, Jim had thought that too. Their normal banter had soared to new heights, and several times had been obvious flirtation, and it was enough to make Jim think that, maybe they were over all this stuff from the past. Maybe the stars were miraculously going to align and they would finally… well, finally _anything_ was fine with him at that point.

But any thought of 'finally' was thrown out the window by the night's end. Pam had excused herself to the bathroom, "to freshen up," and was taking way too long. Jim wondered if she was having a hard time moving through the crowds or maybe there was a long line, but when he saw Karen rush over to Michael with a worried look on her face and gesturing toward the bathroom, he knew something worse had happened.

Pam had been in the bathroom the whole time, puking her guts out from drinking too much.

From then on, the night was centered around Michael insisting they take Pam to the hospital, Pam feeling so tired (and drunk) that she could barely walk, and Jim trying to deal with the lightning-quick change of circumstances while still retaining some composure in front of his bosses. By the time he finally saw she and Michael off, she was already passed out in the back of Michael's car.

It had been a disaster.

At least, that's what he had agonized over the entire weekend afterward. He'd blamed himself for how much she drank, and even had notions that she was never going to speak to him after what had happened. He figured that any chance he had with her, he had blown it that night.

Which was why he was so surprised Monday morning when _he_ received an apology email from _her_!

_Jim,_

_I'm so, so sorry about Friday. I mean, I thought I was fine, and then I stood up to go to the bathroom and I got real dizzy and everything just… went downhill from there. I heard that you and Michael even had to carry me to his car! How embarrassing._

_Please let me make it up to you. I meant what I said about Schrute Farms. Think of all the dirt we'd have on Dwight after this!! Let me know. Sorry again._

_Pam_

Jim was stunned. He was so sure she would've blamed him for what happened, and she didn't.

Maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought.

Which was all the more reason, he rationalized, to go to Schrute Farms with her. They'd have a ton to laugh at and make fun of, they'd get to really talk and reconnect, and he would get to spend the most time he's had to spend with her since… well, since he left for Stamford. It didn't make sense _not_ to go.

So he emailed her back right away, and the plans were set in motion. Pam immediately told him that they'd stay in separate bedrooms, "so we can scope out as much of the farm as possible," and Jim was secretly relieved with that decision. After what had almost happened at the Launch Party, he was beginning to have doubts about exactly what kind of relationship the two of them had. All those signals he _thought_ she was sending him could've just been as easily brought on by alcohol, so not rushing into things seemed like the best possible plan.

Of course, once he saw her in person, sitting out on the front porch of the farm with Dwight and looking oh so thankful to see him pull up, he couldn't help but want to chuck his sensible plan right out the window.

"Hey," he waved to the both of them as he got out of his car.

"Hi!" she ran up and gave him a big hug, then whispered, "I'm so glad you're here. It's kinda creepy being here with just Dwight."

"I can imagine," Jim chuckled as he unloaded his overnight bag from the car. They made some small talk and walked together up to the front porch, where Dwight was sitting in his rocking chair and giving them his usual suspicious look.

However, he quickly remembered that he had to be accommodating, and so his demeanor changed from an air of superiority to that of a humble servant. "Welcome, weary traveler," he greeted Jim, trying to be overly cordial. "Let's get the two of you checked in, shall we? Please follow me."

He led them into the living room of the farmhouse, decorated with everything from old photographs of family members long dead to samurai swords displayed proudly to the head of every animal that is legally (and illegally) hunted in Pennsylvania. To anyone else, it would've looked like the home of a sociopath, but when Jim and Pam saw it, their first reaction was to laugh. It was this kind of thing that was definitely going to bring them closer together.

Dwight directed them to sit on a couch as he took care of the clerical matters. "We have three rooms, each with a different theme," he told them as he very officially opened a logbook.

"What are the themes?" Pam asked.

"America, Irrigation, and Nighttime."

"Irrigation," she quickly claimed.

"Nice," Jim nodded, "I'll go with Nighttime."

Dwight scoffed, "Huh, figured you wouldn't choose the patriotic room."

"What was that?" Jim asked.

"Uh, I will put you down for Irrigation, and you for Nighttime." He scribbled something into the log and quickly ran over to a foldout tabletop. Despite the fact that he knew Dwight was meticulous in all his work, Jim couldn't help but be impressed at how legitimate everything was. Dwight continued, "Well then, do you have any special needs or dietary restrictions?"

"Yes," Jim answered, "we will both be requiring a bedtime story."

"No," Dwight immediately vetoed.

"Not even Harry Potter?" Jim inquired with a smirk.

"No. Jim, come on."

"But you promised," Mose whined softly from the corner of the room.

"Mose, bags!" Dwight shouted, redirecting his cousin and, subsequently, startling Jim and Pam. "Now!"

…

"All right, here we are," said Dwight as he opened the door to Jim's room. "This is the Nighttime room."

Jim's eyes immediately gravitated upward. "Dwight, you can't be serious. There's a hole in the ceiling."

"Uh, excuse me, it is a sky light," Dwight corrected him, "so at night you will be able to see the stars. That is the main feature of the Nighttime room."

"And there's only a thin wire screen here. What if it starts to rain?"

"Then I will get the tarp," Dwight explained in a tone that implied that Jim was a five-year old. "Geez, such a worry-wart."

"At least you don't have a bunch of pipes sticking out of your walls," Pam commented from the doorway as she looked around his room.

"Hey, the Irrigation room is a very special room. It was my Grandmutter's favorite; she chose it as her last," Dwight told them proudly, to which he only received looks of fear in response. He decided to ignore them. "So, I'll come get you before the table-making demonstration. And as of this morning, we are completely wireless here in Schrute Farms. But as soon as I find out where Mose hid all the wires, we'll get that power back on. All righty."

Dwight made a prompt exit as Jim sat on one of the beds, bouncing back a little from the springs. He did remember Trip Advisor boasting that Schrute Farms made their own mattresses, and boy, did that fine craftsmanship show. He looked up to see Pam still inspecting the makeshift skylight and couldn't help but tell her, "Mmm, I'd say one in six."

"What?" she asked, obviously caught off-guard by the comment.

"Oh, I thought you asked me what our chances were in being murdered here tonight," he grinned, to which she responded by pantomiming the infamous scene from Psycho.

"Except you know what?" she added. "This could be called… The Beets Motel."

"The Beets Motel," Jim echoed. "That is… wow."

As they continued to joke and come up with other wacky nicknames for Schrute Farms, Jim couldn't help but feel reassured that this was exactly what they needed: some time outside the realm of work just to catch up and share a laugh or two. That's what she seemed to want, and for now, he supposed he could live with that. Of course, there were still the bigger issues that still needed to be discussed (and always seemed to be looming in the back of his mind), but those could wait. Why ruin the moment when they were perfectly happy right now?

…

Jim had gotten pretty used to city noises when he was trying to go to bed. So much so, that the sound of a car peeling out or shouting from the neighbors above him almost soothed him right to sleep. But farm noises were a whole different story. Every few minutes, he was jolted awake by a creak of the house or a tree branch hitting his window, and he had gotten to the point where he was just lying there, waiting for the next odd and unexpected noise to assault his ears. He was also extremely cold; he had not anticipated so much draft from the hole in the ceiling, and even a sweatshirt and three layers of blankets weren't helping.

He wondered to himself as he lay there in the dark,_ how am I going to be able to put up with Michael on this much sleep?_

The evening had proven to be everything and nothing like Jim had expected. He and Pam got to watch Dwight make a table, sampled homemade beet wine, and even helped spread manure in the fields. And while all of it was funny and absurd and banter abounded, there was no talk of anything deeper. Maybe it was just because Dwight was around the whole time, but Jim couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of his head that, more and more, he needed some closure on the last year and a half. He knew he couldn't avoid it much longer, but didn't want to ruin what they had going for them now. And more importantly, didn't know how to bring it up without impending awkwardness.

Just then, the strangest sound of all started.

"Thwap!... Thwap!... Thwap!..."

Jim groaned and turned on his side, trying to cover his ears with his pillow, but it didn't help much. He had almost drowned out the noise when he heard something—someone familiar and comforting.

"Jim? You awake?"

He turned over to see Pam peeking through the door and instantly he transformed from annoyed to elated. "Yeah, I'm awake. What's up?"

"I can't sleep," she told him, entering the room and sitting down on the bed adjacent to his. He tried desperately not to pay attention to the fact that she was clad only in a tank top and pajama pants as she continued, "I figured you couldn't either."

"Good guess," he replied as he sat up and stretched a little.

"You'd think Dwight would put a lock on the outhouse door."

"What?"

"That noise…" Pam gestured toward the window, "is the outhouse door in the wind."

Jim shook his head, "Oh man. What century is this?"

"That's what I said!" Pam giggled.

"I'm surprised you went to investigate at all. There was no way I was getting up."

"That's cause you're a coward," she smirked, then rubbed her bare arms. "Man, it's cold in here."

"Another lovely feature of the Nighttime room," Jim deadpanned. "There's an extra sweatshirt in my bag, if you want…"

"Oh, thanks," she shivered as she pulled the Penn State sweatshirt from his duffel and swiftly put it on. He was almost mesmerized by her as she adjusted the sweatshirt, pulling her hair out from the collar and tugging at the sleeves, but then he had to mentally smack himself for ogling. He couldn't go down that road, not until he knew what the heck they were doing with themselves. She smiled at him, her expression friendly but somewhat unsure, and asked, "So… think you'll trade the city for the country after this?"

Jim scoffed, "Hardly. And I _never_ thought I'd get used to living in New York."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah… But I really like it. It feels like… like I'm an ant in a giant colony. And if someone looked down at the colony, they would think I didn't really matter, but I actually have a job to do and a part to play… you know, in the colony."

"So philosophical," Pam grinned. "You didn't get that feeling here?"

"Well, here it was more like, you know, it's a small town, everyone knows you… you're not as…"

"Insignificant?"

Jim shrugged, "Kinda… I don't know if that's the right word. I just mean I don't need a lot of unnecessary attention. Only from the people that matter." They exchanged a glance, and suddenly Jim felt so utterly transparent under her gaze. She knew she was at the forefront of people in that category of those who mattered, and he knew that she knew. It was bordering on uncomfortable, so Jim did the first thing he could think of and changed the subject. "So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Oh, don't think I haven't noticed the hair and the nice sweaters and everything," he said, and then immediately speculated, _too stalkerish?_

Pam blushed, "Oh. Well, I don't know, I just… You know I've been trying to… work on myself, I guess, for a while, and I thought changing my look would help."

"So this is Fancy New Beesly with fancy new sweaters, is that what you're saying?" he teased, thankful that she hadn't thought his previous comment was worthy of a restraining order.

"Yeah, something like that," she smiled proudly. "I'm taking more art classes too. I'm taking one right now that's like, computer animation. It's kinda fun."

"That's great! I always knew you'd do well with that kind of stuff," he complimented. "Do you think you want to do anything serious with it?"

"Not really… I mean, yeah, of course I'd want to, but… I don't know if I'm good enough for all that."

"That's crazy. Of course you're good enough," Jim insisted. "You just need to be confident and show off your talent a little more."

She nodded with an expression that seemed like she was taking his words to heart. "Yeah… I've been thinking about, um… going back to school. For art. Maybe graphic design."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I have to apply still, but I just…" she paused for a long moment and looked up at him, and now it was her that seemed transparent. There was something in her eyes that was just so vulnerable, it made Jim want to go to her and hold her tight, just so she would know that, despite all the doubt coursing through her veins, the love he felt for her was real and it was a source of strength to build confidence from.

Of course, he couldn't do that. He couldn't be that bold. And so he did the next best thing and extended a friendly hand to her, and she took it.

"Your hands are freezing," she remarked.

"Damn skylight."

They exchanged a small smile as they sat there in the dark, the palms of their hands growing sweaty and warm, and suddenly the urge to just say what he wanted to say to her was overwhelming. It was practically unbearable, but he kept his mouth shut and just watched her. She was lost in thought, probably thinking about applying to art school, and despite the cold, he practically melted when he saw her bite her bottom lip ever so slightly.

Then she abruptly looked up at him, her expression full of resolve.

"Jim," she started, "I really—"

But she was cut off by a loud, long moaning noise, and she groaned in frustration.

"Ugh, your turn," she told him as she flopped down onto the bed, pulling the covers up around her. The hand that she had been holding was suddenly cold and clammy, and at that moment Jim was ready to murder whoever or whatever was making that noise. With an irate sigh, he got up and went out into the hall to track down the source of the moaning.

Turns out it was Dwight, although he never admitted to actually being the culprit, and therefore the murder would've been unjust. But Jim decided to try and laugh it off; Pam would probably think it was funny that Dwight was the one making those sounds, and it would steer the conversation back to neutral territory.

But when he got back to the Nighttime room, he realized there was no need for any more casual conversation topics, because Pam had already fallen asleep.

Now he felt _real_ motivation to murder Dwight.

He sat down on his bed and sighed, wondering why neither of them could ever get the timing right. It seemed as though when he had all the time in the world to just tell her how he felt—how he had _always_ felt, how he _still_ felt—he never took it. And when he finally built up enough courage to say something, they were always interrupted. And so, as long as the vicious cycle continued, their friendship would always be laced with awkwardness and tension.

Jim exhaled heavily once more before lying down in his own bed and slowly but surely drifted off to sleep, trying not to think anymore about their dilemma. One thing was for certain: teaching Michael PowerPoint tomorrow would certainly be easier than trying to deal with this.

* * *

Please don't throw garbage at me. Please?


	5. Waiting in the Ether to Form

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who is sticking with this!!

Short, after-the-fact disclaimer: If you haven't figured out already, this story is not for those who want an immediate payoff. But just because nothing has really happened between them yet doesn't give the story itself any less merit, it just may not be for those of you who want instant gratification. (Don't you love that I'm explaining this five chapters in?) But I just want to assure you guys that there will be a payoff; I just need you guys to be a little patient. In short, just focus on the journey, and not the destination. I'm trying to make the ride a fun one at least. :) Enjoy!

* * *

"Morning Jess," Jim said hesitantly as his assistant gave him a particularly annoyed look.

"Michael has called a record of twenty seven times this morning," she told him in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Oh."

"He's also called David _and_ Simon's assistants, which can only mean one thing—"

Jim sighed in reply, "He's anxious for us to see his commercial. I'll call him back as soon as I watch it."

"Jim," Jess started as she followed him into his office, a large stack of papers in her hands, "this may be none of my business, but… why do you let him get away with _so much_?"

"Uh… I don't… I don't know," Jim stammered, looking down mindlessly at his desk. He of course knew the answer to her question, but didn't know quite how to explain it so that Jess would understand. Especially since it seemed as though Michael had gotten on her very last nerve this morning. "We just… we go way back. And sometimes, yeah, he can make terrible decisions—"

"Like when he met me for the first time in person and called me a four-eyed nematode?"

Remembering the horrifying incident, he nodded grimly and remarked, "I don't even think he knew what a nematode was…" Jess gave an exasperated sigh, signaling to Jim that he had to justify letting Michael get away without reproach. He continued to explain, "But, I mean, there _are_ those times when he can be really on the ball and helpful… Those times are pretty rare, but they do happen, and I guess I'm willing to put up with the stuff he does for that."

Jess contemplated this for a moment before responding, "I don't know whether that's sad or sweet."

"Might be a bit of both."

They shared a quick laugh before Jess' phone started ringing, and so she left Jim to his work. His first order of business: watch Michael's sorry attempt at a commercial.

Things had been moving pretty fast after the launch of Dunder Mifflin LiveChat. The customers loved being instantly connected to their salesmen, and profits had increased across the board because of it. The company's officers then decided that it was time to expand their base of clientele, so they put Jim in charge of developing a commercial for syndicate throughout the Northeast region. So he hired a couple of guys from an ad agency, explained that he wanted customer service to be the focus of the ad, and sent them on their way to do their creative thing.

He had forgotten that Michael, of course, would hate it.

Jim should've been able to foresee that Michael would throw a fit. Michael always wanted input on things like this, even though he had no real right to give input in the first place. So he acted like a child as he always did, and embarrassed Jim by going straight to David and talking about Jim behind his back. It hurt a little, Jim had to admit that, but he knew Michael hadn't done it to hurt him. That's just how he normally got his way. He didn't know better, like a puppy who pees on the carpet.

And sadly, once again, by having a temper tantrum, Michael had gotten his way. And what was now sitting in Jim's inbox was the product of the debacle: a commercial filmed, directed, and edited by Michael, and starring the Dunder Mifflin Scranton branch:

_It all starts with an idea. But you can never tell where an idea will end up. Because ideas spread, they change, grow. They connect us with the world. And in a fast moving world, where good news moves at the speed of time, and bad news isn't always what it seems. Because when push comes to shove, we all deserve a second chance to score. Dunder Mifflin: limitless paper in a paperless world._

Jim sat back and watched the ad a few times, mentally comparing it with the commercial the ad guys had come up with and trying to figure out a way to let Michael down gently, and then he suddenly had a breakthrough. Filled with excitement, he stood up and rushed out of his office and down the hall to David's, where he barely knocked before entering.

"Jim," David greeted him and motioned for him to sit down, "I'm assuming this is about Michael's commercial."

"Yeah, I saw he sent it to you too," Jim replied.

"You know, I've been thinking that you need to work with him on accepting your answer as the final one," David offered constructively. "You need to get him to acknowledge that you're his boss, and the sooner we can break him of this habit of running to _me_ when he doesn't like the answer _you_ give him, the better."

Jim nodded in agreement, suddenly very aware that he had gotten the reprimand for Michael's stupidity. He was going to have to step up his game in getting Michael to recognize him as his boss, or else there was going to have to be some consequences.

"Because really," David continued, "if you can reign him in even just a little, you will have impressed me. I know from watching Jan try and fail that it is not an easy task."

"Very true," Jim agreed, cautious to say anything else on the subject. He always felt a little uneasy whenever Jan was brought up.

"Now, about Michael's commercial," David leaned back in his chair and pondered his computer screen. "To be frank, there's no way we could ever air it. It's too long, the camerawork is sloppy, it doesn't highlight any of the features of our company that we wanted highlighted—"

"I have an idea though," Jim interrupted, and David gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath, praying that he wasn't blushing as he told him the idea, "Uh, the ending, with the animation of the papers forming our logo… I think that's really good. And, correct me if I'm wrong, it's useable…"

David furrowed his brows and gave a curt nod, "Yes, you're right…"

"I think if we use the animation then it would satisfy Michael, and we would still get to have the rest of the commercial be what we want it to be."

"I like that idea," David responded gingerly. "But, then you have a new problem on your hands."

"What's that?"

"The person who did this animation works in the Scranton branch, yes?"

Jim swore his face was turning all kinds of red, "Yeah, she does…"

"Well, that's preferential treatment. You give one branch the opportunity to contribute, you need to give all the branches the opportunity as well."

"Oh," was all Jim could muster. He wondered what would happen if David knew exactly how preferential this issue actually was, and that the girl who had done the animation was someone he had pined over for years. Jim had to remind himself that the animation was actually very well done, and wasn't just suggesting the idea to David because he wanted Pam's latest art class project featured on TV.

"But there is a way to… spin it, if you will," David continued, leaning forward. "Since this animator doesn't work for our company as a graphic artist specifically, we can pay him—"

"Her."

"Her, thank you, for her labor and call the work independently contracted. That way the other branches don't feel like they were left out, Michael is happy because part of his commercial made it to the final cut, and we still get to keep the ad the way we want it."

Jim thought for a moment and then asked, "But what if Michael tells the other branches that he helped make the commercial?"

"Jim," David grinned, "I know you're still relatively new here, so I will fill you in on something: Michael has _zero_ street cred with the other branches. No one ever believes what he says, even if what he's saying is right."

"That sounds… about right, actually," Jim chuckled. "Thanks David."

"Of course," he nodded. "And if you can get me our animator's information, I'll add her on to the cost of the commercial and rework the budget so we can cut her a check."

"I—_I_ get to tell her we're using her animation?" Jim asked, trying desperately to mask his exhilaration.

"Absolutely," David smiled pleasantly. "Tell her we all say congratulations."

Jim nodded as he made his way toward the door, struggling to hide a huge grin, "I will. Thanks again."

"Anytime."

Jim was practically shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he walked down the hall back to his office. He had just gotten Pam a deal for her animation to be featured in the company's commercial. He, Jim, had made that happen. He thought to himself that he should be used to being influential by now, but something about this felt different.

If he was being honest with himself, part of him felt a little guilty. It felt like he was abusing his power by asking to use Pam's animation in their commercial. But he quickly rationalized that notion by deeming it "networking." He knew lots of businesses collaborated and did favors for each other like that, simply because the guys running the companies were roommates in college or poker buddies. It's why the golf course is such a common spot to hold meetings, however informal and off the record. What Jim did, he told himself, was no different.

He knew she needed this too. Their conversation about art school had continued the next morning at Schrute Farms, over a breakfast of bacon and unpasteurized milk, and she had expressed to him that her resume was not as up to snuff as it needed to be, at least for the art schools she was considering. She had her classes on there of course, and that contest she had won a while back, but nothing more substantial than that. He knew she'd be able to list this as real work experience, and as something in the art realm too, which would definitely make her more appealing to admissions committees.

Back in his office, Jim replayed the end of the commercial over and over, trying to convince himself that his reasoning for pitching the idea to David was purely professional. That animation was top-notch, and Jim wanted it in the company's commercial. The fact that it was Pam who had created it was simply a bonus. It was literally a win-win-win situation.

So why did he still feel so irked about it?

Because he knew as soon as he told her, the dynamics of their rocky relationship would change yet again. She would probably wonder what his motive was for doing it, if she owed him a favor in return, if it was just a tactic used to get her to like him, love him, find his power attractive… Well, truthfully, that consequence didn't seem so bad to him either. But there was still the risk that it could make things awkward too. The friendship that they had been building back up for the past month was so fragile, he felt like this piece of news could break all their hard work to pieces.

Which was why he knew he had to be completely professional about it. He needed a third party to keep them both in check. And he knew just the third party to turn to.

"Dunder Mifflin, this—ahhhhhhheeis Pam. Excuse me," she apologized for yawning into the phone. Jim chuckled to himself; she had obviously been up all night working on the animation, and he couldn't help but find that adorable.

"Good morning Pam," he replied cheerfully. "Is Michael there?"

"Oh, Jim, yes," she answered, "he's been waiting for your call."

"Great. Well I actually want to speak to both of you, so could you set up in the conference room or in Michael's office…"

"Oh. Sure thing. Um, hold please."

Jim tapped a pen on his desk rhythmically as he waited, needing to take a couple deep breaths to prepare himself to be completely professional, and then finally was taken off hold and was greeted with a loud, "Jim Bean!!"

"Morning Michael," he responded. "You are awfully chipper for someone who probably stayed up all night editing."

"You wanna know my trick to staying awake?" Michael giggled. "Coffee aaand… Red Bull!! That stuff really does give you wings. Hot coffee… wings! Hot coffee wings! Now with wings."

"Hey, is Pam there too?"

"Right here Jim," Pam answered.

"Good, um, well… let me just get right into it. Um… David and I discussed your ad, Michael, and… overall, it is not useable. I'm sorry."

Michael scoffed, "What! Not useable?! That is… ohh, that is bull, man—"

"Let me finish," Jim quickly jumped in. "I said, _overall_ it is not useable. Meaning, and here's the details of why we can't use it, okay?"

"Okay."

"First, it is too long, and we would never pay for that much air time. Second, the camerawork doesn't look at all professional; it looks like a home movie, which is not the aesthetic we're going for. And lastly, we want our customer service to be the focus of the ad, and you have not done that in your commercial. Do you understand?"

Jim could hear Michael stifling sobs on the other end of the line. "I understand… that you, sir, are a jerk. And I am going to go to David and demand a recount!"

"David is going to say the same things I just said," Jim explained, knowing he needed to put Michael in his place at that very moment. So he continued, "And, if you keep undermining me and going to David for every little problem that you have with me, then I'm going to be forced to take disciplinary action against you." Jim received nothing but silence from the other end of the line, so he told him in a much more subdued tone, "And also, you didn't even let me get to the good news before you started attacking me."

"There's good news?" Michael sniffled.

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "The good news is that we can use a part of your commercial for our ad."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You're not yankin' me, right?"

"Michael, I would never, ever… _yank_ you."

"Well this is… this is great news!" Michael cheered. "What part are you using? Kelly in the green-screened India? No, no, wait, me in my office with the "world's most creative boss" sign??"

"We're going to use Pam's animation, actually," Jim told them proudly.

There was a short moment of silence before Pam herself spoke up, "You're—really? You're going to use _my_ animation in the commercial?"

"I talked it over with David, and we both think it's really good, and we are willing to pay you for it," Jim said. "We just, of course, need your permission—"

"Hey Jim," Michael interrupted. "Do I get a cut of any of this money? Because, you know, I was the one that told her to do it, it was originally in _my_ commercial… you know."

"Sorry Michael," Jim shrugged, "It's ultimately Pam's creation, and so she's the only one who deserves to get paid."

Michael stammered, "But—but that's like not paying the pimp when you spend the night with one of his hoes! You just gonna pay the hoe and not the pimp, motha—"

"Michael, that's completely inappropriate," Jim quickly interceded, trying to block the images Michael's metaphor had alluded to from his mind. "And I'm not going to need you for the rest of this, so you're free to go."

After a long pause, Pam finally told him, "Um… we're in Michael's office. And he's making that pouty, stubborn face that he usually makes when someone spoils the end of a movie for him."

"Okay…" Jim sighed heavily. "Could you transfer me back to your line then? Or…"

"Sure," she quickly responded. "No problem. One sec."

He was put on hold again and rubbed his eyes as he waited, thinking to himself that breaking the news to Michael had gone better than he expected it to. At least he had made it clear that Michael couldn't go to David for a second opinion anymore. But now Jim was going to have to deal with Pam without any buffer. This made him all the more anxious, and seriously made him reconsider putting Michael on the line, just for the sake of him being there. Who knew what they would say to each other now.

Jim laughed to himself, "Well, it's not like you're going to declare your love for her agai—"

"Jim, sorry to keep you waiting," Pam picked up and immediately started speaking. It made him nervous for a split second that she had heard him talking to himself, but he decided to play it cool and act like it never happened.

"No problem," he smiled. "Is Michael okay?"

"He'll be fine," Pam assured him. "So… this is for real?"

"Yep," Jim nodded, and then felt like an idiot for nodding. She couldn't see that through the phone. "Uh, David told me to tell you congratulations on behalf of all the Officers."

"Wow," Pam said. "Thanks. I… I mean, I'm still a little stunned. This is like, really legitimate stuff."

Jim smiled proudly, "I knew you'd be able to put it on your resume. That's like half the reason I suggested it."

There was a long and deafening silence on Pam's end of the phone before she stuttered, "Wait, you… _you_ asked David to…"

"I, uh… thought it was really good, that's all," he said in a voice that he vaguely remembered using when he was explaining to his middle school principle why he wrote the word "shit" in one of the bathroom stalls. It was a voice full of shame, guilt, regret.

_Me and my big mouth,_ he thought to himself. Though truthfully, he never wanted to hide anything from her; he just wondered if it created more problems for him in the end.

"W—why would you do something like that for me?" she asked softly. He could tell she was trying to keep it down so the others couldn't hear.

"Just, um… consider it a friend helping out a friend," he told her through clenched teeth. He was really growing to resent the word 'friend.' It seemed to almost mock him every time he said it, especially when it came to her. "And you can help us out by letting us use your animation. Sound good?"

"Um… yeah. That sounds good," she responded. "It's like networking."

"Networking. Exactly," Jim agreed with a huge grin, although if he could've, he would've told her, _I love you so much. That's exactly what I was thinking. I love you for thinking that too._

"So, do you need anything from me? Information, or…"

"Um," Jim stammered. _Back to business._ "Well we have your contact information on file so we know where to send your check… And I think David will fax you over the necessary forms to sign later. Alright?"

"Alright," she laughed nervously.

"Well, I better go—"

"Jim—"

"Yeah?"

"… Um, thank you."

"Sure," he replied. "Bye."

"Bye."

And just like that, she was gone. Jim set down the receiver and proceeded to lay his head on his desk, exhausted from the phone call. He stayed that way for a good five minutes before Jess knocked on his door.

"Jim, I have Dan from Buffalo on line one for you," she told him.

"Oh. Thanks Jess," Jim smiled meekly.

"Hope talking to Michael wasn't that bad," she said empathetically, and all Jim could do was shake his head in response. Michael was hardly the issue with that phone call. And that's when, right then and there, he resolved to take control of the situation. If he could tell Michael to stop running to David with every little problem, then he could tell Pam he still had feelings for her.

And this time, he wasn't going to wait until the last possible second to do it either. He would do it the next time he saw her, the next time they had a minute alone together.

As he chatted with Dan, he simultaneously began checking his calendar for possible times he would see her. _Maybe_, he thought to himself, _around the holidays…_

_

* * *

_Remember that no garbage throwing rule from last time? Yeah, I see you with that fistful of garbage. Put that down! Be patient. Omm..._  
_


End file.
